Short Stories: SetsuEva
by Setch
Summary: Probably your guilty pleasure if you think about it long enough. Enjoy. No flames, please.


**Tempus**

"She got you a tiny clock," She looks over her tall partner. Her cold eyes flicker with concealed ire. She glares at the offending object that hangs idly between her thumb and index finger.

"Yes, I can see that," Her partner snaps. It only amuses her further. If she were truly insulted, the clock would have been burned down to ashes the moment she opened the box.

"It's just a clock. Don't get worked up over such a small thing," She smiles to herself for coming up with the jab. And though it is intended to get her partner more worked up, she's equally pleased when she smiles.

"That is not the prob-" She places two fingers on her partner's lips.

"Shush. I know what you mean, but she meant no ill with it." Her partner pouts; something completely out of character in her, yet endearing.

"I hate clocks." She circles her partner's waist and pulls her to her warm body. The other easies herself into the embrace as if it were a second nature. Her partner closes her eyes and lets her head fall on her shoulder. They sigh.

"Clocks cannot own your time." Her partner nuzzles her neck, the next words almost lost to her.

"They can take you away from me."

Your only hint is that this is Eva-Setsu. Who is who is up to you.

 **Coyote Ugly**

"Stop pouting. It looks unsightly on you," Eva rubs her forehead with a hand as she puts down her homework on the desk. Her girlfriend is brooding on the opposite side of their shared room.

"I'm so stupid," Yes, Eva wants to snarl just so her girlfriend will stop with the sulking fest. But through tea, experience and a good deal of meditation she's learned that patience is a valuable virtue, specifically when dealing with her chosen partner.

"It was a common mistake." Setsuna sighs, her pout finally faltering after an hour of convincing. She looks somewhat nervous and flushed. Her shy, tentative smile affects Eva more than she will ever let on.

"I- I investigated a bit. Maybe I can get another animal on the other side, chasing it down?" Eva's lips curve upwards. The freshly inked crow curling around Setsuna's ankle looks rather good, but if it bothers her girlfriend's conscience so much then she will gladly lend her a hand.

"Try a coyote this time."

Contrary to popular belief, most bird species are socially monogamous but genetically promiscuous. Meaning: they cheat. Setsuna got a crow tattoo without knowing this fact and feels guilty. Eva suggest the coyote because it is known as one of the few (a handful, really) monogamous species.

 **Epicurean Mistress**

Fear and excitement combine, making me dizzy as I settle across her lap. My muscles grow tense waiting for the spanking. She's dragging it out. I flinch each time she caresses my ass cheeks, instinctively expecting the sting of her slap instead of gentleness.

I seek her warmth. Trailing small kisses, I nip her throat playfully. Daring, she cups my breasts through my clothes, capturing my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. The pressure borders on painfully and a moan threatens to emerge from deep within me.

A tap on my shoulder breaks the spell. There is a man in a dark suit, a dull expression clouding good part of his handsome face. I get off her lap almost leisurely.

"I am afraid you will have to leave, ladies. This is a respectable establishment and we cannot tolerate such behavior."

"A rather unfortunate policy," She smiles pleasantly at him. Her manners and composure are impeccable. Nevertheless, she will not trick me with this ruse; I know what kind of beast lies dormant inside of her. I see it every night.

With a hand on my hip, she guides me out of the door. She is riled up. I can tell by the faint pressure that I have much to look forward tonight.

 **Neighbor**

I am sure that when I was a child, and I have always been of a curious nature, I never imagined that today I would be promoted to peeping tom-slash-voyeur. My fingers tremble as they spread the curtains just so I can watch my best friend in the shower. She is wrapped only in a towel. The remaining droplets that run down her cleavage are a dangerous temptation. Still, I am afraid that she will turn and see what kind of person I truly am (have become). But there is that silly teenage fantasy swirling around my head, that she will smile at me and lure me in with the drop of her only coverage. Her parents are not around; I take her in my arms and we make love for the first time. We are both inexperienced and a bit clumsy, but it works and we have all the weekend to explore further. She smiles at me, like when she was out of the shower, and the cycle begins once more. I return to my home Monday come and wait for the next weekend, when her mother and father are away again.

 **The Light**

"Are you ever going to approach her?"

"No," She moped. "She might run away."

"You know she's been watching you too."

"Really?" She said. "But I-"

"Girls think you're cute; they always did." Her friend pauses. "Guys are a bit baffled, though. But they will come around."

She hesitates, "Do you think she'll-?" She trails off. Her friend smiles and scoffs, crossing her arms under her chest.

"What? If anything, the kinky bitch will love it."

She sighs, "It's a permanent change. I can't go back now. I made sure I couldn't go back." But she doesn't regret it. She's merely afraid for entirely different matters.

"I'm pretty sure she's been ogling you twice as hard lately. Not sure how she accomplished that." Her friend nudges her forward. "Go. You'll see she doesn't miss the stubble."

 **Lexis**

 _Tap. Tap. Tap… *Erase*_

She sighs in frustration. The screen in front of her taunts her. Dictionary in hand, she glares at the word that is causing so much trouble.

 _Cafuné:_ _"The act of tenderly running one's fingers through someone's hair."_

Really, she could just go with 'caress' and a nice pre-modifier, just like her co-workers, but she's hard-headed. This sole word actually conveys more meaning than her client's target readers could possibly understand. It is the job of a translator to be as accurate as possible, to transmit the author's intention, and the misinterpretation of this particular word is not excusable.

Daunt fingers tread though her bangs as an arm circles her neck. She relaxes when the smell of her wife's soap fills her nostrils. Her partner's eyes twinkle; she can see them from the reflection on the screen.

"To know the true meaning of a word you have to experience it," She gives way to the soft kisses her wife trails up and down her neck. "Then, maybe, you will be able to convey it." She hums under the loving ministrations.

"Neck nipping has nothing to do with cafuné, doll," They smirk as she undresses her on the chair and closes her notebook with her free hand.

Her wife looks at her with grotesquely innocent eyes that promise the most sinful of pleasures.

"It is merely… an incentive. Cafuné is love." She smiles, hand sneaking up her cleavage and curling around her neck. "Words. Actions. You will see they are the same in certain situations."

 **L'invitation**

"I… thought you two were exclusive."

"You and me both."

"Wait. She… cheated on you?"

She shakes her head and sighs, "No. It was- it's complicated, alright?"

She holds her hands up in surrender, "Hey, I'm not the one that brought it up." She takes a sip of her beer. Alcohol is clearly needed.

"She talked me into it. She was subtle, skittish even. Wanted to try something new, you know? To stimulate our…" She blushes a bit and mumbles behind her own beer. "Sex life."

Her friend's expression morphs into one of distaste, "You kidding me, right? Our rooms share the same fucking wall. I _hear_ you guys every single night. And don't get me started on weekends and holydays. It's like watching The L Word all over again, but without the image – Thank God for that."

She smiles, "I know. Which is why I asked her- I mean, why include someone else? And it's even weirder because it's never the three of us; there are two on the bed –or the couch, or the kitchen…- and someone else watches. Yes, I get a bit hot watching her bend over and lose control for- Sorry, too much. And then we part ways and never talk about it."

"You mean to tell me you have pseudo-threesomes weekly and are complaining about it?" And even if it is too much information, her friend should appreciate it. She has a girlfriend that would slice the world in half just to get her coffee –they've been to Starbucks together a couple of times before college- and she is also open to the idea of (albeit bordering fetishistic) experimentation.

"I guess it could be worse," She shrugs one shoulder and smiles. It could definitely be worse.

"Oh, fuck you," Her friend grumbles and takes a sip of the remaining beer.

"Well, actually-"

 **There's a Fine Line between Pink, Black and White**

She lied there, her white panties a tattered mess barely hanging from her left ankle. Her labored breaths muffled by her arm. Scratches covering her forearm and part of her torso, almost sullying her nipples.

She paused, buttoning up her shirt. Cold eyes glared from behind battered flesh. She kissed her, finding no resistance save from that glare, so full of loathing.

Their breasts pressed together as they kissed passionately under the new moon. She grunted and lifted her weight from the other; warmth suddenly left her body.

For a tender moment, a moment of weakness, she kissed her neck, just a small peck. She tensed considerably but still accepted the gesture. She had to. She couldn't possibly want it, wasn't supposed to, so she settled for 'having to'.

Her blonde hair fell from her face as they rose. She left, a distinctive jiggling sound on her step. Next time, surely.


End file.
